


Porters

by Nutbrain



Category: Tom Clancy's Ghost Recon, Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Also grumpy Smoke, Amber Sky Crossover event, And protective Smoke, Freddy Porter, Getting all of Freddy’s information from the bio in game, He didn’t have much a personality in game, Short story of what if, Smoke’s daughter is mentioned, So here’s to riffing, The Devil We Want Mission, Vaguely implied Smoke/Mute, but after the exfil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:20:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29116644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nutbrain/pseuds/Nutbrain
Summary: Freddy Porter, former MI6 agent and internationally wanted terrorist, was captured by Rainbow and Nomad during Operation Amber Sky in order to exfil him to Hereford for questioning. However, old grudges run deep and Smoke isn’t about to let go of his.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Porters

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the mission The Devil We Want in Ghost Recon Breakpoint live event, Amber Sky, after seeing that a former MI6 agent turned terrorist shared the same last name as one James “Smoke” Porter. Given that the whole event revolves around a toxic yellow gas, it seemed suiting that Smoke would be somehow connected. Hope you enjoy!

Smoke scowled as the plane touched down on the airstrip, an expression which only darkened as the high value target was escorted off the aircraft. The HVT, Freddy Porter, didn’t look like anyone of extreme importance, hair ruffling in the wind and rumpled suit coat flapping about. He gave off the aura of someone entirely forgettable, able that could blend in nearly anywhere. Not that Smoke could forget the man, not ever. But forgetability was one of Freddy’s many skills he’d picked up from MI6, before deciding life as a terrorist suited him better. Certainly paid put money in the bank, which had always been his first priority. 

Freddy caught sight of Smoke as he walked across the tarmac. The man smiled in recognition, something smooth and predatory. He was far too comfortable in this position for Smoke’s liking, so sure in his own skills and connection, he likely thought he wouldn’t be here long. As if sensing Smoke’s thoughts, Freddy winked at him just before he allowed himself to be led into the base.

“I want a go at that twat.” Smoke muttered darkly.

“You know you can’t.” Mute spoke finally, having watched the encounter with guarded interest. Smoke stood and stewed a while longer, watching as the all too cheerful SAS pilot did his post flight checks. Smoke waited in the wind for Freddy to be escorted to his cell so he didn’t risk doing something stupid in the mean time; his end of the deal with Mute to be allowed to even see the man in person. The pilot waved at them both when he was done, moving to get himself out of the elements. Smoke, fed up with waiting in the wind, stalked inside, Mute following behind him with a weary sigh.

Smoke waited patiently for the interrogation to start, fiddling around in the camera room until Freddy was moved to the interrogation room, suit gone and replaced with the standard blue T-shirt and grey trousers. Much to Smoke’s disappointment, the other man looked no less comfortable in his current outfit.

Smoke and Freddy both waited patiently for the interrogation to start. Though if the sideways looks he was getting from Mute said anything, Freddy likely had the edge in the patience department; Mute had already offered to trade out the rolling chair twice. The SAS took their tactics very seriously, but time was of the essence. MI6 had made it clear that they expected their former agent to be transferred back to them should Rainbow successfully capture him. 

Just as Smoke was getting ready to see what the delay could possibly be, the door opened and an older man entered, holding a steaming cup of tea in one hand and a stack of files in the other. He was well groomed and nicely dressed, looking every bit like you would expect a kind old gentleman to. Smoke knew all too well there was a sharpness lurking within those kind blue eyes.

“I do apologize for the wait. The kettle had a malfunction.” Came the polite apology. Smoke watched as the man settled his items on the table with great care before taking a seat. Behind Smoke, Thatcher, finally debriefed after the mission, entered the room to watch as well.

“Now, Freddy, is it? Excellent. Freddy, my name’s Devrim. I work here for the SAS, but you look like a smart chap, so I’m guessing you already parsed out yourself. Unfortunately, you’ve found yourself in a right mess.” Devrim leaned back in his seat, taking a careful sip of tea while making eye contact over the rim. Freddy smiled slightly and watched.

“Slimey one, ain’t he?” Thatcher mused, something Smoke couldn’t help but agree with.

“Why don’t we help each other out. Former MI6, now world renowned terrorist? London Bombing, anthrax in Germany, suicide bombers in Belgium and Italy, and the list goes on. You have a lot of people gunning for you right now on both sides. We’re the best bet you have of coming out of this in one piece. We just need information.” Smoke watched as documents were plucked from folders and carefully set on the table one by one. Freddy glanced at them before settling back.

“We both know that’s a false promise, _Devrim_. MI6 catches word I’m here, and they’ll be demanding a transfer. What exactly is it you think you can offer me?”

“For starters, food and a shower.” Devrim voice was good natured, expression unchanged.

“Perhaps I want to talk with my baby brother.” Freddy countered, eyes flicking up to stare at the camera in the room and Smoke felt like he was staring into his soul. He’d had hoped for a flat no, Devrim instead started to haggle for information.

“Putting those two together is a recipe for disaster.” Mute said softly, and Smoke could see from his peripheral vision that he was looking over at Thatcher with concern. After a long silence, Smoke tore his eyes away from the screen long enough to see them both staring at him. 

“If the wanker wants to talk, I’ll talk.” Smoke said as Thatcher looked unimpressed.

“Talking with your fists doesn’t count, mate.” Smoke feigned indignation. It was one versus two in the verbal sparring match between the three of them as Smoke attempted to argue he was perfectly capable of not letting Freddy get him riled up. They were interrupted by a knock and a polite throat clearing as their resident interrogation specialist entered the room. The details had been ironed out and it was time for Smoke to contribute.

“Keep it short. Don’t give him any information and do try not to let him under your skin.” Devrim said, kind but stern as they walked down to the door. Sledge was standing in the viewing room, watching him carefully before he moved aside and allowed Smoke to enter the interrogation room.

“Well, if it isn’t little Jamie! You look all grown up in that uniform.” Freddy greeted him, smile all teeth and never reaching his eyes. Smoke flopped into the chair, staring at the other man with what he hoped was vague disinterest. Freddy looked older than when he’d last seen him, his once blond hair now a slate grey and his crowd feet much more prominent. He said nothing in reply.

“I missed you too. It has been a while, but I’ve been busy— you know how it is.” He paused waiting for Smoke to say something but received nothing. Outwardly, Freddy appeared unphased, but Smoke could tell by the way his first finger twitched against the table that he was irritated.

“Heard through the grape vine you got into the gas business as well. I suppose committing alleged war crimes must run in the family.” Smoke glared, angry flaring at the implication that they were anything alike. Still, he bit his tongue, enjoying the effect his prolong silence was having on Freddy. Maybe this is why Mute gave people the silent treatment so often.

“I don’t ever remember you being this quiet. How’s my daughter doing? Charlie must be so big by now—“

“You keep her name out of your mouth, you bloody git.” Smoke’s tone spoke of danger, body uncoiling as he moved to lean forward onto the table.

“She is my kid you know, despite what you tell yourself. Not that you see her much, out in the world still thinking you can make a difference.”

“Alright, times up lads. Hope you had a good chat.” Sledge said through the intercom. Smoke stood up and stepped away in disgust. Sledge opened the door and motioned with his head as his squad mate reluctantly moved to leave.

“Devrim’s been promising an awful lot. Maybe I’ll turn over some info and ask to see my baby girl.” Freddy called after him. Smoke made to turn, furious, but Sledge gripped his arm, all but pulling him out of the interrogation room and closing the door behind them both. Smoke seethed, unable to get around Sledge to get back in the room. Seeing Devrim leaned against the console, watching with interest did nothing to quell his anger.

“She’s not a bloody bargaining chip, you hear that old man? You keep her out of this.” Smoke, against his better judgment, closed the gap to bring himself nose to nose with the taller Brit. Devrim did a remarkable job of looking unphased as he responded calmly.

“You’ve shown him a weak spot in your defenses. Hopefully we can exploit him through that; he has information we desperately need. I can’t promise your daughter won’t be involved in negotiations, but know that she’ll be safe. Now, please see yourself out.” Devrim finished, quirking an eyebrow as he made no move to back down, waiting for Sledge to tug Smoke out of the room.

Smoke was no longer allowed to watch the interrogation, deemed to be too much of a risk when it came to reacting to his brother’s requests after he attempted to storm down to speak with Devrim. Sledge had headed him off at the pass. 

However, that left nothing for Smoke to do but stalk around base in a foul mood. Mute followed him like a bored puppy, sticking around despite the number of times he’d been snapped at to stop babysitting. A few of the more well meaning ops pulled him aside to inquire about his mood and quickly regretted it. Even his usual boxing partner, Kapkan, wanted nothing to do with him in the ring, his punches deemed too brutal for the training he was looking for. 

It bothered Smoke that he would allow his brother to get to him this easily, to push all the right buttons. He didn’t understand how the man could use Charlie as a bargaining tool when he threw her away so easily as a baby. But at the back of Smoke’s mind, he wondered if maybe Freddy was right and he himself wasn’t good enough for her. Worried that she might meet Freddy and attempt to mend that bridge. She was a sweet kid with a kind heart; just the type of person Freddy loved to ruin most.

This carried this on for a week, with Thatcher and Sledge refusing to offer him insight into what was happening but promising Charlie’s best interests were in mind. However, it was inevitable that MI6 catch word that the infamous Freddy Porter was here, and Harry was facing major pressure to turn him over. If, or rather, when that happened, Smoke had no assurance that Charlie wouldn’t become wrapped up in all of this.

Harry lost the fight to MI6 in short order, the favor trading and political maneuvering happening behind the scenes and above his pay grade. Smoke stood outside the day they transported his brother, the rest of his CTU next to him for both moral support and physical restraint, whichever necessary. 

“Bloody git.” Smoke muttered as Freddy was led towards the transport. Mute snorted. The man wasn’t close enough to hear (or hit), but it made Smoke feel a little better saying it as they watched the transport leave the base.

The SAS returned inside once satisfied Freddy was out of their control. The group meandered to the mess hall so Smoke could angrily push around his peas. Mute tried to coax him into assaulting another food item, or better yet, actually eating. Smoke had just flipped him the bird and went back to his peas when Thatcher’s brick of a phone started vibrating on the table, spinning slowly as it did.

“Need someone to tell you how to answer that?” Mute joked after Thatcher ignored it. For the second time that day, Mute was flipped the bird as Thatcher picked up his phone. His cursory greeting was followed by a silence and then a terse “understood” before he flipped the phone closed and grunted.

“We’re needed in the briefing room. Harry wants to talk.” Thatcher said finally. Never a good sign.

At the briefing room, Harry explained with a lot of words and very little substance something which Smoke summed up quickly.

“So the bloody wanker escaped?”

“Likely with help from an outside source. It was well coordinated and quick.” Harry responded. “I think we need to move your daughter on base, at least until we can be sure he’s out of the country. MI6’s best guess was that they were headed directly out of the country.” Harry clarified.

“MI6s best guess before was that he’d be more secure with them.” Smoke pointed out helpfully, something Harry chose to ignore. He instead launched into the specifics of how they would proceed, Smoke couldn’t help but be a bit impressed with the logistics of the whole maneuver; Freddy had always been a slippery bugger but this took the cake. 

Later that week, after Charlie had safely settled into a room on base still unaware as to why, the call came in that Freddy Porter was sighted in South Africa. After hearing the news, Mute was looking at him with concern. Smoke knew he was right to, especially after the tear he’d been on since he’d first heard of his brother’s capture. Instead, Smoke felt a resigned calm. For all Freddy’s talk and bluster, he never cared about having his daughter back, not truly. In the end, Charlie was his daughter, and so long as she was safe, nothing could take that away from him.


End file.
